Rubix Cube Mind
by Izzfrogger
Summary: Previously called 'House's Mind'. House speaks the truth of many things people are to afriad to think about, but what if he's hiding the biggest secret of all? Short insights about eps 9 to 24 . SPOILERS for ALL of s3! Slight doctorwhohouse md fic.Enjoy.
1. Thoughts

**This is gonna be a **_**kinda**_** doctor who/house md crossover. probably wont have the doctor in but its related to the doctor.**

**enjoy**

Disclaimer: -cough_**fan , fiction**_cough- -curls up and crys in dark corner-

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House sighed as he leaned back on his chair in the dark loneliness of his office.

Clawing shots of throbbing pain ran through his leg and up his body. For the first time in a while he felt ashamed - even though he would never admit that to anyone.

He'd punched Chase (well, maybe he _did_ deserve it for some things), and what he had said was TRUE. That's what he hated about it. His diagnosis was right. House's was wrong. If Chase hadn't have stopped him, he would of maimed a _kid_.

He felt sick; he couldn't believe he had done that. If the surgery had happened, the kid would spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair, not really able to do anything. He even took the chose to live in pain than loose his leg. This was a little girl who'd only just started life, and she would have lost more than him.

God, he screwed up big this time.

And it was all because of that dammed Tritter.

Yeah, he WAS an addict, but it let it manage his pain, it let him do his job. Maybe he shouldn't blame Tritter, but this would of never happened if he hadn't been here and started all this. Tritter needed to be taught a lesson.

At least he did things because they were he thought were right - Tritter just abused his power.

But not only had he punched one of his minions, and probably lost all their respect, nearly made a little girl loose two limbs, he had also lost his best friend.

He would never admit it though but he was quite close to Wilson - but he didn't want to show it. If he did people would think he was weak and not strong at all. They would think that he was pathetic and had stupid emotions. That he wasn't as hard as he was supposed to be. He sometimes hated humans, but he was unfortunately fascinated by them.

And then he had insulted Cuddy. Normally he would do that all the time, but this time he overdid it. He'd never meant to say it, he was just angry. Now he had hurt the feelings of the two of the people he was probably closest to.

He hated himself a lot right now.

Damn, he was screwed.

He'd never meant for this to happen. His whole life seemed to be going the completely wrong way.

Life just sucked sometimes.

Sometimes he just hated this planet. He didn't really know why that guy the Doctor liked Earth so much.

He sighed again.

He would have to do something about this problem – and fast.

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**Comments and constructive criticism welcomed.:)  
A cookie (yes, that's right a **_**cookie**_**! -audience gasp-) for who guesses what the paragraph divider means:) (--------ghiatl-------) **

**ps. sorry if I got the character of house a bit wrong. This is just a little story to vent on my 'what if' thoughts...:) anyway, I hope u enjoy it!**

**xxxizzfroggerxxx **


	2. Why didn't he help Wilson?: Realizations

**DISCLAIMER: surly the 'disclaimer' gives **_**just**_** a little hint? **

**QUESTION summated by Kyla Ryan House :** WHY DIDN'T HOUSE HELP WILSON?

**------------------- ghiatl -------------------**

House was back at his apartment, lying on his leather sofa awkwardly. He stared blankly into the plain walls of his living room.

His body was still but his mind was not.

He closed his eyes.

Whirls of feelings and unseen emotions clashed together in a whirlwind of electricity in his head.

His thoughts drifted to Wilson. He had been a good friend. He was almost feeling guilty - but really he hadn't done anything. _Why is everyone blaming me? It's all Tritter's fault this all happened, not mine._

When he'd found out about Wilson's banks being shut down, he just shrugged it off. It was not like Wilson couldn't handle it or anything; after all, he _had_ been bankrupt and divorced before so it wasn't really _that_ much of a problem was it?

Anyway, Tritter couldn't keep hold on his banks for long. Wilson hadn't done anything wrong, so he had nothing to worry about. If anyone had anything to worry about it'd be _himself._

_Then_ when he found out Wilson had stepped down, he had to suppress an eye roll. Why was it such a big deal? He could always borrow money and ask Cuddy to get someone for him to write prescriptions for his bald little patients. Wilson didn't need his help anyway - House already had problems himself.

_I'm worried about myself, because it's my problem – it didn't concern anyone else. Nobody else needed to get involved.__I had and still have way a bigger problem then Wilson. He should be fine and dandy. It wasn't Wilson who's been denied his normal pain medication for a big chunk of muscle missing from his leg, was it?_

Why the hell is everyone acting like it's so important?

All he needed was them little white pills! Why was everyone making such a big fuss? All he wanted and needed was the pills. He had chronic pain for god's sake, anyone with that problem had to have vicodin, whether they liked it or not, but that doesn't really matter. Why wouldn't someone just give the damn vicodin to him?

Well, it couldn't have been _that_ bad for him...could it?

He thought. _Well, if I was in his position... I wouldn't care. But Wilson cares, so what would he be thinking, and why am I even so damn concerned? I suppose when Cuddy wouldn't let me cure my patients, I was annoyed. But then again, Wilson's patients are gonna die anyway, so what's the point? Ok, let's list this; he's annoyed about…Patients meds, not being able to do his job saving little bald kids, having his bank accounts suspended….not sure what else. I suppose his wife's probably driving up the wall. _

It was then he realized. Wilson was trying to help him, but he just kept pushing him away, which didn't help any either of them. Wilson had all these things happen to him, yet House himself had nothing to hinder him except for his pain meds. House's eyes snapped open.

_Bloody hell, How could I have been so blind?_

Wilson had sacrificed all these things for him, yet he hadn't shown a hint of thanks.

He'd just put his last one and only friend through a thing called misery-in return for nothing.

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**Hope that answered you question. There's something we don't know about House...**

**Ps. sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes:)**

**REVIEW are nice you know –pouts-**


	3. The real reason?

**Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D. blah, blah, blardy, blah…**

**Well, I don't own it…Yet****(-author laughs evilly as she thinks of plans to take over House M.D-)**

**Immense**** Thanks to my dude-y reviewers: **HifaLootin, the shining sun, LiL-mIz-WhItE-gUrL and KylaRyan.

**Sorry it's been so long since I updated! Thanks for all the awesome reviews!!!!****This is set round episode 15 and the next one will be related to episode 16, so be warned!**

**----------ghiatl----------**

It had been a while since Tritter had left. He'd tried his best…kind of.

He'd said sorry to Wilson. He hadn't realized it was so hard to say it before. Well what else could of he done?

He had power, but not over Tritter. He really did owe Cuddy and Wilson one though. They'd saved his sorry ass. Well, he would have probably pulled through anyway, what ever might have happened.

He couldn't help but smile ironically though. Do clinic duty or go to jail!? He bet she had wanted to say something real threatening like that for a LONG time…

But he knew she wouldn't do that. He was the best doctor in the hospital, and he did his job. (Well, except for some of the clinic duty, but you can't really blame him for not wanting to treat patients who think they have cancer when all they really have is a cold, can you?)

He was confident that Cuddy wouldn't sue him that easily.

------**ghiatl-----**

House sighed as let his head rest on the cold desk of his office. He couldn't believe it.

They'd _RUINED_ his plan. The desk felt cool against his rising temperature. Right now he was annoyed at his team. He was frankly pissed off. Damn them for sticking their noses in! They couldn't leave anything for one _miniature_ fraction of a second, could they? But then again, he couldn't complain really. They'd probably got that off himself.

He'd been feeling increased pain for a while now after Tritter had gone. At first he'd blamed it on his leg, but now he was sure that it was something else. He didn't want to tell Wilson, because he would just moan or blame it on his leg or his so called 'Rubix complex'.

At the start he thought it was Tritter that was doing this to him. House knew Tritter well. Tritter wouldn't get off his case at the start, yet he had given up so easily in the end. Was it possible he'd slipped something into his pills or drinks - For revenge maybe? But it wasn't that – he'd checked. If he had drugged him, the affects would have worn off by now. And as far as House knew, he was sure Tritter didn't carry portable infections around to poison people.

A realization dawned on him after a week or two, and if his idea was correct, his life was going to be turned upside-down.

He'd taken a blood test. He knew his body was already changing, but he knew he couldn't use the hospital to do scans on himself; he'd have to go somewhere else to run tests. Even then though, It'd be dangerous.

If he did them here, Cuddy and the rest of his team (and Wilson) would want to know what was going on. And that would NOT be good. The one thing about not having a personal life is that when something interesting happens to that person, everyone else wants to know about it.

If they found out about whom he really was he would have to make them keep their mouths shut to keep the secret safe. And he knew that _wouldn't_ work!

--------**ghiatl--------**

_So I pretended to be a cancer patient by using another guy's record from the hospital._

_Of course that's when Cuddy and Wilson intervened. Then everyone else knew. I had to spend that week watching the others fawn over me like I was going to drop dead at any moment. I _almost_ felt a bit guilty at making them think I had cancer. Like I actually have cancer! The idea in itself was absurd. Dr .House? With cancer? You've GOT to be kidding!_

_Luckily my team had bought my 'I wanted to get cool stuff injected into my brain so I would get high!' I mean, who would be that stupid and actually believe __THAT__? And who would actually go that low to get high?_

He couldn't believe his team had believed it, but in the end it didn't really matter.

But there was still one problem – he was stuck.

He hadn't got any more ideas.

He couldn't use this hospital (Cuddy would easily find out if he'd faked some records now) and he couldn't use the other hospital. The other places were way too far away to visit without causing suspicions.

For the first time he was unsure of what he should do. Sit there and let the pain overwhelm him? Get high on Vicodin? Wait 'till the commotion died down, about which time _it_ would have already happened?

He had to; he NEEDED to do something; anything. He'd never thought this would happen to him.

_Wow_, he couldn't help but think. _My life's really screwed up now. _

If his team found out whom he really was…

Well, let's just say he didn't want to think about the consequences.

----------**ghiatl--------**

**Sorry if there's any spelling or grammar mistakes!**

**I'm still open for questions for House if anyone wants to contribute. **

**Seeya soon! **

**xxxizzfroggerxxx**


	4. Episode 17, Top Secret dream?

**Disclaimer: You know, I know, I cry. **

**Sorry for the wait, I'll be writing more soon. Bit of a short chapter.**

**This is in episode 17, s3 – 'Top Secret' (go to tv(insert dot here)com for recap)**

**Now I'll continue with the story.**

**Enjoy!**

**Ps. Sorry for any spelling or grammer mistakes. Please point them out if you see any. **

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He put his foot down slightly on the accelerator pedal. The car speeded up through the flat plains of the dusty and seamlessly deserted land. No-body at a first glance would realize there was a war on.

He smiled slightly as he glanced behind at the men in the back seat of the dirty jeep. They were singing raucously. The music went off and one of them started complaining, saying that they would have to listen to him sing. He snorted slightly in amusement at the comment as he looked back at the road.

BANG!

The world exploded and he was plunged so fast into a darkness he couldn't think, or even breathe.

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Rubble. Dirt. Pain. So much pain; he could barely contain a scream of agony as it felt like his leg was being sliced in two. His world exploded into a whirlwind of colliding pain, and it slowly burned like a raging fire into darkness.

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Consciousness drilled into his mind slowly and painfully like the first rays of light over the western hills of an empty plain. He cracked open his eyes to see the sky. His whole body was vibrating and…moving? He shifted ever so slightly to find a springing fabric underneath himself. He realised he was on a sort of makeshift bed or trolley.

His eyes screwed up in pain as suddenly his leg felt like it was just put into an intense furnace. He felt a warm hand on his arm and a cold needle slide into his arm. The few seconds felt like eternity as the pain, ever so slowly, ebbed away like the tide at a beach.

He opened his eyes slowly. Back-grounded by the light-blue clouded sky, a face came into vision.

Strong, determined eyes stared back at him from a young face with brown hair. The soldiers lips moved as he talked, but he couldn't hear him. Something was shoved into his hands, and then the man was gone. He was left gazing up into the cloud-covered sky.

Sound slowly returned and the sound of guns stuttering and bombs blasting echoed faintly in his ears. He shifted his throbbing leg, only to find half of his lower leg wasn't responding. In fact, his knee felt wet, and below it, he couldn't feel anything. It felt light, very light. He didn't even have to look down to realize what had happened. Horror crawled up his chest and seemed to clutch his heart. A bomb had gone off while he was driving and the jeep had crashed – taking half of his leg with it.

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House awoke to find himself in his office on one of his chairs. One leg was bent over the corner of the chair while the other one was stretched out before him on a foot rest. His eyes travelled up his leg to find Cuddy standing over him like a menacing daemon from hell. He instantly knew he had another case.

What he didn't expect was when his heart almost stopped when he saw the face on the patient file. It was the guy from his dreams.

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He told Wilson, but he didn't seem concerned. What was concerning though, was the fact that his body ached, and he couldn't urinate.

Meanwhile, the case continued like any other case – diagnosis, man gets even more ill, then better, than worse…. It was something like that anyway. He wondered absently why that always seemed to happen. He had to suppress a snort of laughter. It was like they were on one of those stupid medical programmes with the lets-have-the-same-thing-happen-in-the-same-order-every-time-with-different-and-really-over-the-top-and-rarely-likely-to-happen-diseases on channel five or Fox!

His leg and bladder were aching - Wilson hadn't given his the prescription for the pills.

House decided to insert a catheter. Not nice, but necessary. He had no idea what had caused all this to happen. Wilson thought it was the vicodin, but House had other suspicions. This had never happened to him before. He carefully made his way into his bed. He shifted uncomfortably as he stared up at the ceiling. It was going to be a long night.

It was only when his nose started bleeding and when Cuddy's face went out of proportions that House realised he was in another dream. Waking up suddenly it only took a few seconds to realise the bed was wet. He sighed. Well at least he didn't have to have that catheter anymore. He never realised how damn annoying it could be.

It was then the answer to the case finally hit him. It was all to do with the nose! If the nose was scratched from the inside, it would bleed, and infections could get in...

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He lent back in his comfy office chair with the blinds closed, smirking. He'd just had one thing confirmed. Chase and Cameron were getting it on like two little happy bunnies. FINALLY she went to fawn over someone else, not that he didn't _like_ her all over him, but it was a bit stupid that she was after him. She had no idea what she would get herself into. She'd probably dump him after a day or two anyway. He would ruin her pureness.

Wilson asked him if it was a dream which told him the answer to the case. He lied and said no. Well he would want him to think the vicodin 'affects' were getting to him, would he?

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